


Bucky Barnes Reluctant Petersitting Service

by watchingthestars13



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bucky Babysits, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Clint and Natasha are secretly dating, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, I can't do titles, Kid Peter Parker, M/M, Peter loves his aunts, Rated Teen because Bucky and Clint need to wash their mouths out with soap, he gets one, he's not very pleased, lots of fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-02
Updated: 2015-12-02
Packaged: 2018-05-01 19:37:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5218223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/watchingthestars13/pseuds/watchingthestars13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky babysits his nephew Peter for an entire weekend, all alone. Which, in the end, doesn't become very lonely.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bucky Barnes Reluctant Petersitting Service

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, lovely readers!  
> There will be copious amounts of fluff and Bucky trying to be a responsible human being, as well as minor Clintasha because I'm always a slut for Clintasha.  
> Comments and kudos greatly appreciated!  
> In this universe, apparently, two guys can have kids together! Don't know how, not questioning it, because Peter being biologically their makes a whole lotta sense in this thing.  
> Enjoy! <3

 

"Why do  _I_ have to do it when you're much more capable and just as available?" Bucky asked incredulously, and Natasha threw yet another discared dress at him.

"Because Steve said so," she replied easily.

This was the umpteenth time they were discussing this, and Bucky wasn't even one step closer to winning. 

The issue at hand was that Bucky had been chosen to babysit Peter Stark-Rogers whilst his parents went on a two day trip to get some well deserved peace and quiet. Bucky was happy that his best friend had built a life and a family in the twenty-first century, he really was, but he wasn't very eager to join him. He didn't feel the need for love like theirs at the moment, and was glad to just hang out with Natasha, or Steve, and sometimes even Clint. He liked just... Being there.

Bucky's past was still splotchy to him, and his memory sketchy at best, but he did remember a few things. He remembered the Howling Commandos, and Peggy and Howard Stark. He remembered Coney Island and stick-sickly Steve's mussed hair and small wheezing breaths. He remembered his little sister and he remembered the way she pouted and the way he looked with short hair. He remembered how much he fucking hated homophobes.

He still didn't know shit about keeping a four and a half year old entertained for over ten minutes.

"I have no experience! I'm gonna screw up and accidentally kill him!"

"You're not going to kill Peter," Natasha said, matter of factly. "You need to stop worrying. You've babysat him before."

"For an hour, max! He likes Banner better than me, why couldn't he just come?"

"Bruce is cooling off somewhere in Asia," she said and grabbed another dress, a black, long sleeved one. "Clint's coming home from a mission tonight, last time Thor babysat alone, there was The Incident, and then there's you. Doing nothing but breathing and waiting for the next mission." Bucky groaned.

"Please, Natalia," he pleaded as he sank to his knees, grabbing the hand that wasn't currently pressing the black silk dress to her front. "I'll do anything. I'll clean all your guns. I'll make that Russian bread you love so much. I'll buy you a metric ton of real Russian vodka. I'll throw myself from the top of the Avengers tower to amuse you, please, Nat, I won't be able to handle it!" Natasha gave him a dry smile that said everything he needed to know. She wasn't gonna give.

"No."

Fuck. He threw his head back with a groan. How was he going to survive the coming two days?

"However-" she said, and Bucky's head whipped up so fast that he was sure he was gonna get whiplash. Natasha gave him the kind of evil smirk that had him thanking God internally that he was her friend now and not her enemy. "I can come visit tomorrow. I bet Peter would like that."

"Thanks," he huffed. It wasn't what he wanted, which was her to take all the responsibility away from him, but he still appreciated it. She dropped the black dress on his head, and strode back to the closet. "Why are you even trying to look all swanky?"

"Did it occur to you that maybe I'm not as available as you are?" Natasha asked in a distracted manner as she pulled a deep red, Jessica Rabbit-esque dress out of the closet and held it to her chest as she looked in the mirror. He ripped the black dress from his face, throwing it onto the couch effortlessly.

"Mission?" he asked, even though he doubted it.

"No." She decided on the dress and yanked her loose sweater over her head, her sweats joining it on the floor. Bucky respectfully looked away. "Clint owes me. He's lost so many bets to me that I decided I wanted a 'swanky' restaurant as payment." She wriggled into the red dress and struggled to zip it up all the way up. "A little help?"

Bucky used his real hand to zip her up all the way to the middle of her shoulderblades.

"You look like a million bucks, Nat," he supplied as they both looked at their reflection in the mirror.

"I know," she replied and shook her red locks free from the messy bun she'd been keeping them in. His phone vibrated in his pocket, and he pulled it out with a sigh.

Bucky had gotten himself a flip phone, and was still ridiculed endlessly for it by both Tony and Clint. Smartphones weren't really an option because of his metal arm, so he'd gotten himself a Nokia flip phone with the trusted help of Natasha and Steve. The good captain had only gotten a smartphone a few months ago, and was still figuring it out. Bucky really didn't feel like getting one of those. He stuck to his Nokia, even though it had disappeared on several occasions, because  _god forbid_ that Bucky used anything other than Stark tech when he was around Tony. He'd also learned to keep it permanently in buzzing-mode, to avoid awkward ringtones that Barton somehow managed to install on his phone.

It was Steve calling.

"What?" Bucky grunted as he scrubbed a hand over his tired face. He hadn't been sleeping all that well lately. HYDRA related business. Not very pleasant dreams, but he supposed he deserved it for all that he'd done.

"Well, aren't you just a ray of fuuu-" Stark said, and apparently changed his mind mid word, "-uuudging sunshine."

"As always," Bucky said dryly. "What do you want?"

"I'd like for you to haul your ass over here so that me and Steve can get going. It's a long drive, wouldn't want the old man to be driving in the dark."

"Fine," he said and ended the call. Natasha was sliding something that looked like a thigh holster over her athletic leg, and Bucky raised his eyebrows. "Really?"

"Can never be too careful," she said as she shoved her glock into the holster and lifted her leg to see if it could be seen. Bucky didn't see the gun, but he saw her black underwear. Lace. Not a date, his ass.  _  
_

"Right. I gotta get going, make sure you get some knives and the explosives into your heels," he supplied as he grabbed his shoes of her bedroom floor.

"I'll call you!" she called after him.

"Yeah, yeah, have fun on your date with birdbrain!" he called as he grabbed the duffle from Natasha's kitchen.

He could hear her muffled 'It's not a date' when he'd closed the door.

\---

Bucky got into the private elevator with a sigh and dropped the duffle at his feet.

"Penthouse," he said.

"Of course, Sergeant," Jarvis replied. Bucky wasn't looking forward to this all that much.

Don't get him wrong, Peter was a huge dork, much like his parents, who adored spiders and his Aunt Tasha. He liked science, much to Tony's glee, and had big, doe-like brown eyes that could get just about anyone to cave. He'd seen the kid use the doe eyes Fury's way, and shit if it hadn't worked. Amazing kid, really.

It was just... He could barely take care of himself. He lived in the appartment next to Natasha's, because she was the only one who he would listen to in the beginning. Her snappy retorts in Russian and Steve's pleading and talking had gotten him to where he was today. He still needed Natasha to poke her head in at least once a week to make sure he'd actually eaten since the last time she was here, and showered, and slept. Steve dropped by a lot too, and so did Barton, but only because he was there to make sure Natasha ate real food, and not just saltines and salads.

It was a weird system, but it was a functioning one.

And now another human being was supposed to be relying on him for the same things. It made him feel kinda uncomfortable, but he was now clinging to Natasha's promise of coming over and distracting Peter. 

The doors slid open, and he walked directly into the ominously silent kitchen. Toys were scattered over the tiled floor, and there was a stray sock underneath the kitchen island. Crayons were all over the kitchen table, along with paper, and there were a few toy cars and action figures in strange places around the room, and a blanket halfway through the doorway leading to the living room.

Bucky took a deep breath. He wasn't really a neatfreak, but this was the lazy kind of mess Clint had at his place, and it  _bothered_ him. 

"Stevie?" he called, and Steve's head poked out from the living room. He gave Bucky a wide smile.

"Hey Buck!" he said and came up to give him a pat on the back that would have a normal man stumbling with the force of it. Stevie really just doesn't know his own strength. Or knew it well, and knew that Bucky could handle it. 

"Excited for your fuck-a-thon with Stark?" Bucky asked, and Steve blushed as he laughed bashfully.

"Language," he mumbled. "I don't wanna come back and hear Peter cussing like you do."

"But can I say 'shit'? Stark does that all the time. It's time the kid learned some good old fashioned cussing." Steve gave him a look that told him just how funny Steve thought he was being. Bucky grinned at his childhood friend as he was led into the living room. 

Stark was on the couch, with Peter sitting on his stomach, one hand absently petting his father's hair. Peter was wearing a blue shirt with the Avengers on it (geek), and a pair of small (apparently kids are _really really_ small, he'd forgotten) pajama pants. Tony wasn't even wearing a shirt, clearly not as eager to leave as he'd made it sound like over the phone. 

"Look who's here," Steve said, and Tony and Peter looked up at the same time, head snapping over to them with slight interest. The only difference was that Peter perked up when he saw who it was, and Tony squinted.

"Bucky!" Peter squealed and scrambled over the back of the couch, earning him a sharp intake of breath from Steve before he righted himself again and dashed right into the solid muscle that was Bucky's legs. Bucky felt that twinge of fear flare up and then quiet down.

He wasn't scared he was gonna fuck this up. He _wasn't_. 

"Hey kiddo," he said and ruffled Peter's hair awkwardly, but from the grin he recieved, he assumed it wasn't all that bad. 

"Looking forward to having your old dads' out of the house?" Tony asked with a smile at Peter as he sat up in the couch, his chin resting on the back of it. Peter made a muffled 'i dunno' noise into Bucky's stomach, and Bucky chuckled.

"Did'ya pack yet?" Bucky asked as he patted Peter's back, silently asking to be let go.

"Yup. The car is ready to go, too," Tony said, his look still locked on Peter. Ah. This was probably the longest they'd had to part with Peter for in a long time, and both were pretty nervous. Well, never let it be said that Bucky wasn't a thoughtful friend. Kicking his best friend and spouse out of their own home would be his pleasure. 

"You should hit the road. It'll get dark in a few hours," he said, giving Tony a pointed look. Mournfully, Tony got off the couch, grabbing his shirt from where it was draped over the back of a chair, and started buttoning it up. Steve crouched down and held his arms out toward Peter, who came barreling into his papa's arms.  

They hugged for a while, and Steve took a deep breath.

"Alright baby, papa and dada are leaving now. Be good, okay?" he said and stroked Peter's cheeks. Peter nodded and Tony crouched down too, giving his boy a bear hug and a huge smile.

"Give Uncle Buck hell, 'kay?" he said and eskimo kissed his baby boy.

"Tony!" Steve chided from the kitchen, and Tony sighed. 

"Alright, fine. Do what your papa says, and what Uncle Buck says, yeah?" Peter smiled and nodded. "Good. Love you."

"Love you too," Peter said and got another round of hugs and kisses. The superhusbands piled into the elevator, and waved miserably at their son before the doors closed.

"Alright, kid. What do you wanna do?" Bucky asked. Peter looked up at him, his face confused and kinda... Cute.

"Can we bake?" he asked. Bucky blinked. That was _not_ something he'd think a four and a half year old boy would want to do, but hey, he wasn't one to judge.

"Sure," he shrugged, and pushed a stepping stool into the kitchen island, motioning for Peter to scramble up as he opened a cabinet where he knew Steve kept his cookbooks. "What do you wanna bake?"

"Cupcakes. Lotsa lotsa cupcakes."

\---

When they finally finished making their cupcakes, it was getting dark outside. Bucky had never been alone with a small child for this long. No one trusted him to handle it, since kids usually threw screaming fits and they thought Bucky would shoot them for being annoying. Shoot a guy in the leg for being annoying _once_ , and suddenly you were being told by a SHIELD shrink with a nasal voice that you should start having regular appointments again.

Like anyone would be able to handle sharing Bucky's baggage.

Peter had insisted they use frosting to decorate all the cupcakes. Bucky had been forced, because Peter's combination of doe eyes and Steve's Captain voice was the best recipe for success, to decorate each of the cupcakes with Avengers signs. A few had an hourglass in red, another few a big star, that Peter had made with minor help on Bucky's side, another few depicted a hammer, a few of them quite frankly horrible arrows, then a bunch of radioactive signs, and a single one with an arc reactor. Peter had done a couple of spiders on a few of the others, and used the red frosting to make stars and Santa hats on some more of them. The kid had said lots of cupcakes, and now they had a lot of fucking cupcakes.

"We gotta put these in the freezer soon," Bucky said as he coaxed the frosting can out of Peter's small hands. He turned his doe eyes on Bucky.

"But Bucky!" he exclaimed. "Dada's isn't done!"

"It's not?" Bucky asked, looking down at the cupcake bathing in blue frosting. It looked almost like the arc reactor, even having some of the edible glitter he didn't want to know why Stark owned, on it to make it look glowing. "It looks good to me."

"But it's not done!" Peter said stubbornly, reaching out for the frosting can in Bucky's metal arm. Bucky held it further away from him.

"I'll add one more stripe. Choose carefully," he said, and Peter's tiny eyebrows furrowed as he stared intently at the cupcake. "What time is it even?"

"It is 4:19 pm, Sergeant Barnes," Jarvis supplied.

"When do you even go to bed, kid?" Bucky asked as Peter directed him to draw one more line.

"Dunno."

"Master Peter does not know how to tell time yet, Sergeant," Jarvis said, and Bucky narrowed his eyes toward the ceiling.

"But you do, I hope?" he snarked as he placed all the cans on their designated shelf in the fridge. 

"Yes. Master Peter goes to bed at around 8:00 pm, Sergeant." 

"Mm. Right. We should probably make dinner then."

Peter perked up.

"I'm hungry," he said as he crawled down from the counter with the million muffins. "My hands are sticky." As if to demonstrate just how sticky, he slapped a hand to the stepping stool, and it made a wet noise.

"Gross," Bucky replied and grabbed a rag from the sink, it looked clean enough as he made it damp and crouched down to wipe Peter's hands and then the stepping stool. "What do you wanna eat for dinner?"

Peter shrugged.

"Jarvis tells dada what to do," he said from the floor. Bucky swept the cupcakes to the side for some cooking space, carefully aligning them instead when Peter made a horrified noise.

"What does Jarvis think then?" Bucky asked, looking up at the ceiling.

"I suggest spaghetti and tomato sauce would not be above your abilities, Sergeant."

"Is your dada's AI sassing me?" Bucky said to Peter, who tilted his head in confusion. "Nevermind. Spaghetti and tomato sauce sound good?"

"'Kay," he replied, and Bucky bit his lip.

"I'll fix dinner and you can... I don't know. Why don't you draw or watch tv or something?"

"I can draw!" Peter nodded happily, and dashed over to the kitchen table, scrambling up on a chair. Glad to have him occupied, Bucky started fixing dinner for them.

When the spaghetti was almost done, he felt a tap tap on his leg, and looked down to find Peter smiling up at him. 

"Look what I drew, Bucky!" he said happily, and shoved a paper into Bucky's hand. He looked at it and he had to clench his jaw to hold back a laugh.

It was a cute drawing, with a kid with brown hair and glasses holding hands with a man in black with brown hair to his shoulders, and the kid was holding his metal arm, that was of obviously colored silver. There was a squiggly line at the top of the paper. The childish handwriting above the two figures declared that it was definitely Peter and Bucky holding hands with the sun in one corner and flowers on the ground next to them. How did Peter even know how to write? Must be a genetic thing to be super smart even at the tender age of four and a half.

"Is that us?" he asked, even though it obviously was. He felt strangely pleased to have this small child's appreciation and apparent trust.  

"Yup! See, that's you, that's me, an' tha's Jarvis," Peter said, pointing to the man, the kid, and the squiggly line. Right, of course, it was Jarvis. The Starks and their love for their creations.

"I think you did Jarvis very well," he told him seriously, and Peter beamed even more.

"Do you like it, Jarvis?" Peter asked and held it up to the ceiling when Bucky handed it back.

"I like it very much, young sir. Shall we place it on the fridge?" Jarvis asked. Peter nodded and skidded to the fridge, not finding a magnet within reach.

"Bucky?" he asked hopefully.

Bucky grabbed a magnet, a bright blue circle, stupidly enough with his metal arm, and slid it down the fridge to Peter's grabby hands. Peter took the magnet, staring at it for a while, and when Bucky was just about to ask what was wrong with the damn magnet, the little kid slapped it onto Bucky's arm.

He stared as it stuck, and he stared as Peter giggled and pointed to another magnet, one obviously Hulk themed.

"That one!"

Slowly, Bucky dragged it into his reach, and the kid giggled again as he slapped that one on his arm too. When Bucky had four magnets on his arm and the drawing was up on the fridge, he poured the pasta water into a collander and served the dinner to his enthusiastic audience.

Peter was now firmly perched on a bar stool, swirling his spaghetti and tomato sauce and making noises whilst doing so. Bucky watched with a small smile from where he was leaning on the other side of the kitchen island, eating his own spaghetti. Peter kicked his feet and drank his milk, but otherwise didn't try to talk to him. 

So, maybe Bucky got why Natasha liked the little brat. 

Peter put his dishes into the dishwasher, and then grinned at him and grabbed two of his fingers with his one hand, tugging Bucky into the living room.

"Jarvis, movie?" Peter asked as he patted the seat next to him on the couch. Obediently, because sometimes he was nice like that, he sat down next to the small child, and was forced to watch Toy Story 3.

About halfway through the movie, Peter made his move, and snaked his way into Bucky's lap, stunning the former assassin and HYDRA agent. Best way to throw him off: place a child that he had no intention to harm in his custody for over an hour. Peter's head dropped back against his chest, and he noticed just how fucking  _tiny_ Peter looked in his arms.

After the initial panic, he let Peter get settled, and was surprised to feel the little kid drag his metal arm into his tiny lap. He played with the fingers as he watched the movie, but at around seven thirty, Peter's eyelids started getting heavy, and he cuddled up a little more, attempting to use the crook of Bucky's metal arm as a pillow and his real arm as a blanket.

"Alright kiddo, I think it's time we got you into bed," he said quietly, getting a displeased squint from the heap of tiny limbs in his lap. "Come on. Up you go."

He poked Peter up the stairs to the bathroom, helping him haul a sleeping shirt over his head and brush his teeth. When Peter was finally settled in his bed, Bucky sighed, running a hand over his face.

"You got everything you need to go to sleep now?" he asked. Peter wiggled around under the covers. 

"'M cold." Bucky threw a blanket over his feet, and Peter huddled into the duvet more. 

"Anything else?" 

"Dada always reads Peter Pan to me before bed," he said, turning his big doe eyes on Bucky. He sighed.

"Can't Jarvis read it to you?" he asked, pleadingly. Peter looked miserable at the prospect, but nodded. Damn Peter's doe eyes. He got that from Steve. Nevermind that he was 6"2' and had lost all innocence since he started hanging out with Stark, Steve Rogers puppy eyes were not to be trifled with. Bucky sighed. "Alright, alright, I'll read the damn book. Where is it?" 

Peter lit up like the sun, and scrambled off the bed with his Iron Man plushie still in a tight grip towards a bookshelf. Who knew the Avengers Tower had a bookshelf? Probably something Steve had forced Stark to add to Peter's room.

The little kid grabbed one of the books and handed it to Bucky before he nestled himself underneath the covers again. Bucky stared at the dark green cover, beautifully shaped letters forming the words "Peter Pan". It was an old book, the pages worn and yellowed. He wondered where Stark had gotten this copy of the book. It really was a pretty book.

"Dada always cuddles me when he reads," Peter informed him, only the top half of his face sticking up from underneath the blanket. Bucky chuckled quietly.

"Of course he does. Your dada loves you," he replied. Peter stared at him for a while.

"Do you love me?" he asked innocently. Bucky's initial thought was to say 'hell no' because he wasn't a sap who got attatched to stupid little kids. But this was Peter. Peter wasn't stupid. He was too smart for his own good, and as protected as one could be. It couldn't be too bad to say he loved him. Right?

"Sure, kiddo," Bucky said, smiling at the little kid in the bed. Peter smiled back. 

"Then you can cuddle me too!" He should've known the kid had a motive. Bucky let out another quiet chuckle. 

"Alright," he said, shaking his head in disbelief as Peter scooted closer to the wall. Bucky slid into the small bed next to him, and Peter burrowed into him, underneath his metal arm and with his tiny head on Bucky's lower torso. He was so tiny, Bucky felt like if he took too deep of a breath, he'd accidentally snap his neck or something equally horrifying and ridiculous.

Bucky opened the book to the page Jarvis and Peter directed him to, and he read out loud for Peter to hear until he felt Peter's breathing slow, and his Iron Man plushie slipped a little from his grip. Bucky carefully slid out from the sleeping child's arm, and put the book back in it's spot on the shelf. 

After a moment's hesitation, Bucky nudged Peter's head onto a pillow and dragged the covers up over his shoulders. He turned the lights out and a blue light by Peter's bedside flickered on. A nightlight, shaped like his Dada's arc reactor.

Bucky didn't close the door all the way, wanting to be able to hear any commotion but still wanting to give the kid some peace. 

He trudged down the stairs to the common room and sent Steve a quick text about how Peter was fast alseep, and then asked Jarvis to call Natasha. She denied his call, and he was offended for a few moments before he realized that she was probably still out with Barton. So instead, he grabbed his shitty duffle and threw it into the guest bedroom, and did the dishes. He went to the gym and trained his ass off and tried calling Natasha at least four more times, and she still didn't answer.

Weird, since it was almost two am when he finally gave in. Bucky took a scalding shower before dumping himself into the guest bed and falling asleep.

\---

Natasha picked the phone up with a sense of dread. Bucky had called her six times last night. Shit.

"Tasha?" Clint mumbled sleepily next to her, and a warm hand settled on her thigh, calloused fingers sliding over soft skin. "What's the matter?"

"Mm. Nothing," she said as she let herself be dragged back to bed by Clint's strong arms. He nuzzled into her hair with a happy hum as she bit her lip and stared at the screen.

"No seriously. What's the matter?" he asked as he swept her red hair back, diving in and kissing her neck, where he'd love to leave a hickey, but was unable to. Shield didn't like it's agents rolling around in the hay, and the team didn't know. That's how they liked it, really, but it still left him unable to leave hickeys where they could be seen.

"Bucky called me a lot last night," Natasha said. "Makes it feel like something is wrong."

"Call him back then," he sighed and yawned.

"I promised him I'd come over today," she supplied. Clint groaned.

"What? But I just got home," he whined and burrowed further into her hair, his hand seeking hers. "I thought we were gonna stay in and watch those old movies you like and eat pizza." 

"That sounds lovely, but he was really freaking out yesterday. I want to know that he can handle it."

"I thought you didn't doubt he could?" Clint questioned. Natasha shrugged.

"I don't doubt it, he does. If he doesn't think he can do it, then he can't."

"It's too early for that kind of psych talk," Clint declared. He was silent for a while, and then she felt his hand splay out over her ribcage. "Please don't go," he pleaded quietly, and Natasha hated to leave Clint when he just got back from a mission, she really did. It was always a bad time for both of them to be alone.

"Come with me then," she said, turning her head enough to look at him. A bruise was blooming on his jaw, and he had a cut she'd taped together on his left cheekbone. Five o'clock shadow was covering his face, and his hair was mussed. He could probably hang out with Bucky as she took Peter off his hands for a few hours. 

"'S that such a good idea?" he asked as Natasha ran her hand through his hair, turning around in his embrace. 

"Yeah. I promised him I'd come. He won't mind if you're there too, and Peter will be thrilled," she said gently, not saying the words he still heard. _I want you there_. Clint huffed, his breath tickling her neck.

"When are we leaving? I'd like to spend some quality time between your legs before we do."

\---

 Bucky woke up with a sharp breath, and sat up in the bed, fingers twisted in the covers. His teeth were still gritting, and he took a few deep breaths, prior to forcibly uncurling his hands from the sheets. So, nothing bad tonight. At least not the really bad stuff. Swell. He'd gotten at least four hours of sleep, which felt like a first. He couldn't recall the last time he'd slept in more than two hour intervalls.

He grabbed a cup of coffee from the kitchen, it was apparently already six am, and sipped it whilst gazing out over the not so lazy streets of New York City. He'd gone back to Brooklyn a while ago, to check it out, and found that it didn't look the same, which was a really strange sensation, but New York City had sure as hell not looked like this back in his day. Somehow, the huge change felt better than the smaller one. 

After taking a shower and dressing in sweats and a tanktop, he strode up to Peter's room, deciding to check if he was awake yet.

His bed was empty. 

"Peter?" Bucky called out in alarm. No response. Internally cursing in all the languages he knew, he dashed through the place, checking the kitchen, living room, all the places on their floor where he could possibly be hiding. When he came up with nothing from the frantic search, he flashed his teeth at the ceiling in a snarl. "Jarvis, where's Peter?"

"Master Peter is unavailable at the moment," Jarvis replied, his voice cool but not soothing Bucky's nerves one bit.

"Override Peter's statement and tell me where the hell he is!" Bucky demanded, nearly slamming his hand through a wall. If he lost Steve and Stark's kid, he was fucked. Natasha would kill him and skin him, and Barton would shoot his half dead corpse with acid arrows. And that was  _before_  Steve and Tony got a hold of him. And Bruce. He didn't even want to think about his poor corpse in the hands of a grieving Bruce.

Jarvis was silent for a while, and Bucky glared where he knew one of the cameras were.

"Young master Peter is in Sir's workshop."

Bucky quickly made his way down there, typing in his passcode. The doors didn't open. He concidered just breaking the glass, but decided against it and sighed, leaning on the glass door.

"Peter?" he called through the glass. "I know you're in there."

He could hear Dummy whirr, and closed his eyes. What the hell had he done to upset the kid?

"Peter. Let me in," he said, louder this time. Then he remembered a trick Pepper used on Stark all the time. "I'm giving you to the count of three to let me in," he said, trying his best to sound stern and not pissed off. "One." There was some scrambling behind the door. "Two. Th-"

Finally, the glass doors parted, and Bucky walked straight in, not expecting the tiny sniffling boy sitting on the floor next to Dummy, underneath his father's workbench. He looked so sad that Bucky's hands, that were supposed to be resting on his hips with anger because the kid had _slipped out when he was sleeping_ , fell to his sides instead. He stared for a second, and then inched closer.

"Hey kid," Bucky said, his voice wavering as Peter turned his huge, wet eyes on him. His face was red and he was clutching a tablet in his hands like it could save the world. "What's the matter?" Peter sniffed, and internally Bucky groaned. Bad idea to leave him with kids for too long, it would only make them cry. 

When Peter didn't answer, he crouched in front of the workbench, tilting his head in question. Peter's lower lip trembled.

"I miss papa an' dada," he sniffed. Oh. Well, that made sense. Tiny kid gets left without it's parents, gets distressed. Obviously. Tony had been gone on businesstrips and Steve on missions, but none of them had ever happened at the same time. Now Peter didn't have his papa or his dada, and he missed them. Right. How to fix that, then.

"Scoot," Bucky said, nudging with his head to his left. Peter did as told, and Bucky crawled in with him, throwing his real arm around the kid's tiny shoulders. The tablet showed a picture of Steve and Tony, Steve with a younger Peter on his shoulders and getting a kiss on the cheek from Tony. "I uh, I guess we could video call them?"

Peter turned his eyes on Bucky.

"We can?" he asked quietly.

"Sure," Bucky said, not entirely sure he was doing this right. "Jarvis, video call Stark and Stevie on the tablet for us, yeah?"

"Of course, Sergeant," Jarvis replied, sounding pleased with Bucky's choice of action. Thank god. If the AI approved, he wasn't doing anything wrong.

It took a few beeps for Stark to pick up.

"Wha'?" was the most coherent mumble they could hear, and then there was a chuckle in the background. The screen was illuminated by a dim blue light, and Bucky heard shifting under sheets.

"Papa?" came Peter's happy gasp, and a light was turned on. Steve, shirtless and in a bed, smiled at them from the other side.

"Peter! Hi baby," he said softly. Peter lit up at his papas voice and face. "What's the matter? Are you okay?"

"I miss you," Peter said with a sniffle. Steve's smile turned softer.

"I know, baby, we miss you too," he replied gently, and Tony sat up next to him, rubbing his tired eyes. He also lit up when he saw Peter.

"Hey Peter Pan," Tony said, leaning his head on Steve's shoulder. The nickname made sense to Bucky now, given their book preferences. 

"Dada!" Yup. This cheered Peter up big time. Bucky counted it as a win when Steve smiled at him from the other side of the screen.

"Having fun with ol' Uncle Buck?" Tony asked sweetly. "Hi Bucky, by the way."

"Hi," Bucky replied.

"Yeah! We had lotsa fun!" Peter said, nodding happily. "We made cupcakes an' I got to eat frosting out of the can-"

"Shh, that's a secret, kid," Bucky whispered, but loud enough for the mic to pick it up. From the grin Tony was supressing, he could tell he wouldn't get in too much trouble for it. Peter blinked at him, wide eyed.

"Oh. I didn't gets to eat out of the can, bu' we watched Toy Story, and Bucky read Peter Pan!"

"Uh-huh. That was nice of him," Steve replied, his voice warm and soothing enough for Peter to nuzzle into Bucky's real side. The contact nearly startled Bucky, but he'd gotten more used to Peter's incessant cuddling, and could now handle it without flinching and/or freaking out as it happened.

"Well, Pete, buddy, dada and papa will be home tomorrow. Think you can sit tight and have fun with Uncle Buck till we get home?" Tony asked, his eyebrows raised. Peter nodded confidently, and Bucky felt a sting of something foreign when he did that. How was he so sure? Bucky wasn't even that sure. "Okay. Have fun kiddo." He glanced over at Bucky. "You too."

"Thanks," Bucky said. "Having fun?" 

"Hell yeah," Stark replied with a sly grin. "Though we miss our little Peter Pan."

"Think of the children, Stark," Bucky said with a mocking headshake, and his grin turned into a smirk.

"Right. Later skaters," he said, and Peter grinned at his father's goofy reply.

"Later skater!" Peter called back, and the two fathers waved before ending the call.

Now happy, Peter looked up at Bucky with a blinding, truly innocently happy child's smile, and it was strange to see it directed at him. The last time a kid had smiled at him like the world is all right, was when he was training the girls in the Red Room. The girl had smiled at him with bloodstained teeth after beating a man enough according to his standards. She didn't last very long into the program, surprisingly.

"Can we make pancakes?" Peter asked, and Bucky was a little bit too shocked to remember basic words to confirm that they could, so he just nodded, and let himself be led up the stairs to the kitchen.

With the help of Jarvis and some online recipies, they managed to make blueberry pancakes without breaking the kitchen, because Bucky is a _motherfuckin' awesome_ cook. Peter crawled up on the counter of the kitchen island and ate up there, because frankly, why the fuck not, and talked aimlessly about this kid named Wade that's really nice to him but really mean to other kids. Bad dad, sick mom, but he's really nice to Peter for some reason.

When Peter was on his second pancake and Bucky on his sixth, the doors to the elevator slid open.

Natasha waltzed into the room in jeans and a black tee, giving Clint a look over her shoulder when he shuffled into the room.

"Aunt TASHA!" Peter exclaimed, and nearly threw himself off the counter in his haste to get to her. Bucky had just enough time to put the spatula down and turn around, grabbing Peter basically out of the air so that he didn't fall, and then set him down on two steady feet. He skidded over to Natasha, who had her arms open, and was hauled into his aunt's arms like he weighed nothing. 

"Hi Peter," she said lovingly, her soft murmur betraying how much she cared for him. Clint's look, that had been tenative, turned soft, and Bucky knew that they were a thing. He just fucking  _knew_ it. He's on a roll today, and yeah, he sucks at reading human emotion, but he knew it. 

As Peter and Natasha chatted, Clint made his way over to Bucky, shooting him a loopsided grin. He had a cut taped shut on his cheekbone, a bruise on his jaw, but he looked fine. Fine enough, concidering. 

"Sup, man? Dealing with Peter okay?" he asked, and eyed the pancake that was currently in the pan hungrily. 

"Yeah. Minor freak out this morning."

"Oh?" Clint said, rasing his one eyebrow but not taking his eyes off the pancake. Bucky rolled his eyes. 

"Grab a fuckin' plate and stop eyeing the food like it's got it's legs spread, what is _wrong_ with you?" Bucky said and cuffed him over the back of the head, which Natasha gave him a squinty look for. 

" **Hands off the archer, Winter** ," she threatened in Russian, and Bucky gave her a sweet smile as Clint grabbed a plate with a shit-eating grin and joined him back by the stove. 

"He missed his parents," Bucky told Clint instead of answering Natasha, who was back to chatting with Peter, putting him back down on a chair by the kitchen island. 

"Oh. How'd you deal with that?" Clint asked, waiting surprisingly patiently for his pancake. 

"Video called them."

"What? Seriously? You're so high tech, I might just get you a  _damn smartphone_."

"Fuck off, Barton." There was a gasp behind him.

"Aunt Tasha! Bucky said a bad word!" Peter whispered. Clint bit his lip to stop from laughing out loud. Bucky turned to face him, and gave Clint the stink eye on the side.

"So did Uncle Clint," he whispered back, and Peter gasped in horror again.  _How can this tiny child sound exactly like a mortified, small Steve Rogers. How can he be so scandalized when he lives with Stark._

"Uncle Clint!" he chided, and Natasha was holding a hand to her mouth to stop from laughing as well. 

"Dollar in the swear jar, both of you," she then said, no longer holding back the smug tone but definitely the smile.

"There's a swear jar?" Clint said incredulously, and Peter dutifully pointed to a vase Bucky had passed off as decoration. It was an old, battered vase, actually probably the only thing about the kitchen that wasn't overly modern or overly anything. Maybe overly tacky. It was a brick red, and covered with colorful flowers in different shapes, as if done by a child. 

"Dollar in the swear jar," Peter said strictly, tilting his head up just enough to show the stubbornness that proved he really was Tony's kid after all. 

Bucky conceded, and held his metal arm out to Natasha, who pressed the folds in all the right places, bless her, revealing the small space where he used to keep small explosives, and found a tiny wad of cash.

"Christ, Buck, what are you, a walking safe?" Clint asked with a laugh as he dug a crumpled dollar out of his pocket, shoving it into the jar. Bucky shrugged.

"The world isn't a safe place," he replied as he, to Peter's glee, shoved his own dollar into the jar.

"Did someone seriously try to mug you? You, the huge, buff, metal armed guy who looks like he eats annoying people for breakfast?  _Really_?" he asked as he got his pancake flopped onto his plate. Bucky shrugged.

"Once. A really desperate kid. And if I ate annoying people for breakfast, you wouldn't be alive anymore." Clint did a mock gasp of horror but looked mightly pleased as he did.

"See that? _Awful_. It must've been a mighty desperate kid."

"Yeah," Bucky replied, his voice detatched. He didn't like to reminiscence anymore on that subject.

Clint and Natasha stole Peter for the rest of the day, which Bucky was thankful for. They went to the park for him to let some steam off, and Bucky went to the gym to beat the shit out of some bags and to do some one armed pull ups. Tony had redesigned the arm nearly completely, making it lighter but keeping the same system of "touch" and the way he moved it. Even so, the fact that his left arm was that much stronger made him want to increase strength in the other arm, to make them more even, as if that was possible.

At three pm, Natasha and Clint came back with a dirt covered Peter, who was pretty much asleep. Bucky knew Peter didn't usually take naps, but the only two people who knew how to take real care of children in his vicinity were Natasha and Jarvis, and really, Jarvis wasn't even human, but if neither was protesting, let the kid nap. Bucky kinda wanted a nap.

"Back already?" he asked from the kitchen table, where he was reading To Kill A Mockingbird. He liked to flaunt it in front of Clint and get him lookin' at 'im with the kind of squint killers used on their tagets. So, really, he was getting a kick out of making one of his friends want to kill him. Bucky had weird hobbies.

"Yup. Squirt is all tuckered out," Clint alerted him quietly as he walked into the living room with Peter in his arms. Natasha slid down onto the chair in front of him, and tilted her head at him like she was about to interrogate him.

"So. How have you been dealing with it?" Natasha asked calmly.

"'It' being Peter?"

"Yes."

"Fine."

"Really, James? Last time I heard you talk about your weekend with Peter, you were scared shitless," she reminded him.

"I wasn't scared shitless... I was nervous. His one dad can pick my arm apart in seconds and the other one can hurt me in other, freakier ways. I dislike fucking up missions."

"Is Peter a mission to you?" Shit. The way Natasha said it made him inwardly cringe. He was glad that he couldn't see any anger in her features though, he'd trained her well. A sick sense of pride settled within him. 

"No."

"You called him a mission."

"My mission is not fucking up, okay? Deal with it, kid." He took a sip of his coffee, and even though Natasha seemed displeased, she didn't push it further. Which, okay, was kind of an indication that she was going to skin him about it later, which was something he wasn't looking forward to.

"Right. Did you eat lunch?"

"I ate toast."

"For lunch?"

"If Americans can eat pancakes for breakfast, why can't I eat toast for lunch?"

"... Strange but fair point," she said. "Even though toast doesn't qualify as lunch."

"It does for Peter," he pointed out.

"Peter is four. You are a man of ninety-seven. That's over nine decades. I can't believe I'm telling you to grow the hell up."

"That's a dollar in the swear jar for you, Natalia," he said. Her face was a not very rare complexion of 'are-you-fucking-kidding-me', but he only gave the swear jar a glance. She rolled her eyes but got up and stuffed a dollar in the beat up swear jar. Then she went into the living room, grabbed Clint, and walked back into the kitchen.

"Don't die, call if you need me," she tossed back as she dragged a confused Clint into the elevator, who gave him a slight wave before the doors closed and there was silence again. Bucky picked his book back up and read until he heard a soft cry from the living room.

"Aunt Tasha?" 

Bucky got up, internally panicking, because shit, what if he started crying again? Twice in a day made Bucky feel like maybe he wasn't so good at this. And he kinda wasn't, but at least if he kept the crying to a minimum, he'd feel better telling Steve that his son was alive. 

"Your Aunt Tasha and Uncle Clint had to go. You're stuck with me, kiddo," he said as he walked into the living room. Peter was sitting up in the couch, rubbing his eyes. 

"'M hungry."

"Want toast?" he suggested. Peter looked up at him, a furrow in his brow that was way too serious for a four year old to have. 

"Apple too?"

"Sure," Bucky said with a shrug and hesitated when Peter raised his arms, a silent question to be held. Kids needed hugs. Right. Bucky braced himself and carefully grabbed under Peter's arms, hauling him over the couch with surprising ease. He let Peter more or less sit on and wrap his legs around his right side, not wanting the metal of his other arm to dig into his soft, impressionable skin. Peter wrapped one arm around Bucky's neck and leaned on his shoulder, and Bucky had to take a few breaths to calm himself. He could totally do this. Carrying kids was easy.

Bucky walked into the kitchen and decided that talking to Peter might also be a good idea, keep him awake now that he was up. 

"How was the park? Did'ya have fun?" he asked as he walked over to the cabinet with the bread in it.

"Yeah! Uncle Clint let me try shooting with arrows! But then Aunt Tasha caught us and she was mad," he replied happily, glad to just cling to him as he prepared toast for him one handedly. His metal arm was impressive in how much it was like a real hand, but buttons and cufflinks were still a challenge, as was pressing tiny buttons on a toaster. 

"How mad was she?" he asked, amused, because letting a kid play with a bow an arrow felt like something Barton would do and something that would unsettle Natasha. Peter was a careful kid, sure, but he was still just a kid. 

"She was really mad. Bu' she was mad at Uncle Clint, an' not me," he said and used his free hand to curl into the fabric of Bucky's t-shirt. 

"Ham or no ham?" Bucky asked as he opened the fridge. 

"No ham."

"PJB?" Peter nodded. What Americans saw in peanutbutter and jelly combined on white bread, Bucky will never understand. He still retrieved both containers, handing one to Peter to get him to unclench his hand from his shirt, and because he only had one hand, what with holding the tiny person.

He started the coffeemaker, grabbing a glass of applejuice for Peter and then sat him down on the kitchen island, much to Peter's chagrin. He soon recieved his toast with PBJ, and Bucky ate his with butter and ham, and recieved his coffee.

"So what'd you eat for lunch?" he asked.

"Hot dogs," Peter said, his voice a little muffled by the food.

"Don't talk with food in your mouth, come on," Bucky said, and noticed how his Brooklyn lilt got just that much stronger when he gave Peter a reprimanding look. Peter pouted a little and swallowed before he apologized. "Good hot dogs?" 

"Mhm. And Aunt Tasha and Uncle Clint were  _kissing_ ," Peter whispered, with eyes widened in mortification. Bucky blinked.

"Were they now?" he said, raising his eyebrows at his tiny accomplice. Peter nodded seriously with toast in his mouth, and Bucky hummed. "Can't say I didn't see that coming. Was it gross?" Peter made a little 'euw' noise through his food to confirm, and Bucky smiled as he sipped his coffee.  

After the apple he was promised, Peter played with his toy cars and action figures on the living room floor, zooming in under the couch sometimes and behind it, making whooshing noises as he played. Bucky settled down in an armchair and kept reading the book, watching Peter as he went around.

Dinner was quick, mac and cheese because Bucky wasn't a constant overachiever, and then he put the tiny kiddo to bed. He read Peter Pan again, and tucked Peter in. 

He dutifully texted Steve, telling him that Peter was asleep, and texted Natasha that both of them were alive, and then he went to twist and turn in his bed until it was time for Peter to wake up.

\---

The next morning was calmer, easier, because Peter was in his bed and still sleepy enough to be carried downstairs and be set down in the couch with a blanket and bright tv-shows. He ate cereal and another apple, Peter had a weird love for apples, and Bucky didn't eat at all, because he felt like shit at the moment from the lack of sleep and nothing could change that.

He'd taken a shower at around three am, and shaved his face, tied his hair back. There was a thrumming ache behind his temples, and he couldn't wait for this day to be closer to over so that he could run around his block until it stopped feeling like his lungs were shrinking in his chest.

There was a light silence in the living room, and Bucky was back to reading and Peter was back to his cars on the floor, in his cute pj's, when he suddenly pierced Bucky with a look.

"Play with me?" Peter probably intended for it to be a demand rather than a question, but he was too nice of a kid to actually demand something. Bucky was going to say no, but then Peter's eyes widened in childish innocence, and his doe eyes were so impressive he just had to give.

"Fine." He sank down to the floor, with his eyes trained on the doorway and back to the tv. It was pure instinct, and he couldn't help but feel a little pissed at himself for it. Even though he was pretty sure nobody would try to get them, old habits die hard.

He drove around one of the cars under one of his real fingers as he watched Peter focus on the game, his eyes locked on the two cars he had crashing into each other. He had to admit it, the kid was pretty cute when he furrowed his brows and pouted a little with the concentration it took to line his cars up and then speedily scattering them all over the floor.

"Um, hi?" came a voice from the tv suddenly, and Bucky's head whipped around as Peter made a noise that wasn't distress. More... Joyous?

On the screen, was a beautiful woman, with brown hair up in a hair-do Natasha would call a 'messy bun', and black glasses. Her face was oval, her cheekbones prominent and eyes dark blue. Her eyebrows were currently furrowed, and she tilted her head at him in confusion. Bucky was left to stare at her in shock.

"Aunt Darcy!" Peter squealed, and scrambled off the floor, grinning brightly at the tv. The woman, 'Aunt Darcy', smiled at him, and her smile was warm, showing off a slight gap in between her two front teeth. Bucky's heartbeat felt like it had just stuttered.

"Hi Petey! Where are your daddies?" she asked, side-eyeing Bucky. 

"On vacusion," he said.

"Vacation," Bucky amended, and Peter nodded furiously at, going out on a limb here, Darcy.

"And you're his hot babysitter?" she asked, smirking now. Bucky was stumped, and Peter looked concerned. He turned around and put a small hand on Bucky's forehead.

"Are you hot?" he asked, worriedly, and Bucky blanked out a moment. His parents had passed on their caring nature on him.

"I'm fine, Pete," Bucky told him seriously, and Peter looked unsure, and that just broke Bucky's fucking heart. He imagined how many times Peter had been sat at one of his fathers hospital beds and heard the same reply. How many times had Steve and Tony lied to protect him from the harsh truth? There had been times during Peter's existence where they'd both suffered close calls, and fell ill and nearly died. He could understand how sick and tired Peter must be of that answer. "Not sick. Aunt Darcy is being a flirt. Like how your dada calls your papa hot."

Darcy smirked at him. 

"Where  _is_ Tony and Steve, by the way?"

"In a cabin somewhere," he said with a shrug. "They'll be back later today."

"How long have they been gone?" Darcy asked.

"Since Friday afternoon."

"And you are..." she asked.

"This is Bucky!" Peter said happily, and patted Bucky's face. Thank god Barton wasn't around, that gesture and Bucky's lack of arm breaking for it would have him laughing his ass off. Darcy's eyes widened.

"Bucky as in... Bucky Barnes? The Winter Soldier?" she asked, her voice now colder, and he gave her a sad smile.

"The one and only."

"Is that why Aunt Tasha and Uncle Clint call you Winter?" Peter asked, and as if he noticed the change in Darcy's demeanor, he planted himself in Bucky's lap, looking up at him with his big doe eyes.

"Yeah, kiddo," he replied, using his real arm to put Peter in a better position, so that he could see Darcy as well. Peter was a surprisingly tactile kid. Then again, Tony touched  _everything_ in his reach, usually. "Because Aunt Tasha and Uncle Clint think they're hilarious."

"They're not?" Peter asked. "I think they're funny."

"You do love your Aunt Tasha," he replied with a small smile. He looked up at the screen again. Darcy was staring at him, her eyes searching for something he wasn't sure he was showing.

"I thought the Winter Soldier would be more... Bad guy," she said quietly, more of a question than a statement. Peter was confused.

"Bucky's a hero!" he said happily and with such conviction that Bucky nearly bought it. "Papa and dada tell me about how he helps beats the bad guys all the time!"

"Do they?" Darcy said, but the initial warmth seemed to be seeping back into her features.

"Yeah!"

"I'm happy you've got a good babysitter."

"Bucky's the best!"

"Even better than Aunt Tasha?" Bucky asked, surprised out of his mind. Seriously? Peter gave him a solemn nod. Wow. That made him feel a little warm on the inside. Peter treasured his Aunt a shit-ton. "Huh. I like you too, kiddo."

"Don't you love me?" Peter questioned, the little brat. Bucky receded.

"Yeah. That too," he said, surprising even himself with how soft his words were, and had the urge to ruffle Peter's hair. He didn't, but still got a huge grin and Peter throwing himself around his neck. Bucky was stunned for a full two seconds, and it was hard surprising the Winter Soldier. Then again.

He wasn't _currently_ the Winter Soldier. Right now, he was a guy babysitting his best friend's kid so he could fuck his husband for a full weekend. Or do whatever couples  do when they're not fucking. He wasn't really all that eager to find out, truly.

Bucky gave Darcy another glance. Well. Maybe some day. 

"So what'd you want with Stark? Or Steve?" Bucky asked, still with a hand basically covering both of Peter's shoulderblades. 

"I, uh, I need to talk to Tony," Darcy said and bit her lip in thought. At Bucky's raised eyebrow she smiled. "He owes me a favor and I need help with this college thing. Kinda dumb, actually, but Jane is... In a phase."

"Phase?" Bucky asked, even though he probably wasn't allowed to know. Need to know basis, really. 

"Oh, Jane's a scientist. She's doing that annoying thing where she won't sleep or eat  _unless I force her to_." She yelled the last bit to the right, her eyes narrowed. There was a muffled reply, and Darcy rolled her eyes. "Since Jane is unavailable, and I've called Bruce a gazillion times, I thought I'd try the tower."

"Just us here," he replied with a shrug.

"But papa and dada are coming home, right?" Peter gave him a look of pure fear.

"Of course they are. Your papa and your dada wouldn't stay away from you for long." Peter nods carefully, and places himself back in Bucky's lap, sitting down to play with his cars.

"So... You babysit often?" Darcy asked, a glint in her eye that made Bucky's heart go back to hammering in his chest.

"No. This is probably the first time I've been in Peter's vicinity for over six hours."

"And Tony still let you take care of his kid? That is so weird. He's freakishly overprotective."

"I have no clue why. Probably Stevie's idea," Bucky said, shrugging. 

"Stevie?" There's a smile on her face that makes his stomach do funny things.

"It fit him better when he was small and scrawny."

"Probably did."

They stayed silent, for a while, only Peter's car noises droning out the silence, until Peter piped up.

"Darcy, do  _you_ like to play with cars?"

\---

Bucky didn't even realize that hours had passed and Darcy was still video chatting them, until Jarvis told him that it was time for a snack. Peter's tiny stomach growled, and Bucky was running on caffeeine and determination and years of practice.

"Put Darcy in the tablet!" Peter exclaimed, scrambling to get it from the couch, and Jarvis did as told. Darcy smiled on the screen, and Peter raised his arms to be held. Bucky surrendered. Again. With Peter safe on his hip, he walked into the kitchen, listened distantly to Peter chatting away at Darcy, who talked just as much back. When Peter was safe on the kitchen island, he concidered his options. 

"Wanna have cupcakes?" Bucky asked, and Peter nodded furiously. "What shape?"

"Aunt Tasha. And Dada!" Peter replied, then happily telling Darcy about the billions of cupcakes that now hid in his fridge.

He handed Peter two of the cupcakes with Natasha's seal on them, but skipped the arc reactor one. It was basically a sugarbomb, and Bucky knew enough about kids to know that they practically climbed walls after having too much sugar. He wasn't plucking Pete off the ceiling, that's for fucking sure. 

They had some popcorn and watched a bright cartoon, Bucky with the tablet containing Darcy in his lap. She was wearing a burgundy tee, her tongue poking out of her red lips. She was writing something, probably whatever she'd wanted to talk to Tony about, and the crease in her brows really made her look clever. She was a real spitfire, actually, from what he'd gathered. He liked Darcy.

When Bucky was just prepping for making lunch, the elevator doors slid apart with a soft ding, revealing Tony Stark-Rogers and Steve Rogers-Stark, tired but clean and in one piece each.

Peter made a noise that could've shattered Bucky's ear drums, and he was prepared from last time, spinning around just in time to catch Peter out of the air and setting him down on his feet. Peter ran to crash bodily into Steve and Tony's legs, making Tony stumble and Steve laugh as he was hoisted up into his father's arms.

"Hi baby. Miss us?" Steve asked as Tony kissed Peter's cheek and got a smooch on the nose back. Peter made a very childish noise, a 'mhm' that Bucky thought could only be achieved with a pacifier in his mouth. Apparently not. 

"What happened?" Darcy asked, and Bucky turned the screen wordlessly. A soft 'oh' escaped the mic.

As Tony held Peter and watched with a smile as he told him all about his and Bucky's weekend, Steve came up to Bucky with a smile bright enough to outshine the sun, and hugged him tightly.

"He's been good, right?" Steve asked as he pulled back.

"Yeah," Bucky replied, feeling the tight feeling in his chest lessen a little. Steve glanced down to see Darcy and beamed at her too. Amazing what a weekend away with someone they love can do to a usually bright person. Steve was practically _blinding_. 

"Ms. Lewis," he said happily.

"Jesus Steve, _Darcy_ ," she said with a slight laugh. "You're being really happy. Get laid much?"

"Yup," Steve replied just as happily, his cheeks flushing. Darcy chuckled, and Steve shot her an inquisitive eyebrow. "How long have you three been video-calling?"

"Uh..." Darcy checked the timer and raised her eyebrows. "Like, six hours."

"Really?" Steve and Bucky replied at the same time, both just as shocked.

"Yup. I needed to talk to Tony actually, need some help with some college sh- stuff," Darcy replied. "You didn't tell me Anakin had gone good side."

"Darcy!" Tony exclaimed, Peter burrowing into his fathers neck with his hand pressing against the arc reactor. 

"Tony! Just the guy I was looking for," she said with a grin. "You little minx." Tony grinned and winked at her, and Bucky rolled his eyes.

His shit was already packed, the duffle waiting in the guest room a level above them, and now that Peter's parents were back, Bucky didn't feel like he needed to stay acutely. Tony handed Peter off to Steve, deciding to deal with Darcy now as she explained whatever she needed help with, and Bucky was just about to slip away when he heard Peter making his distressed noise. It was amazing that the kid had so many distinguished noises.

"Bucky!" he exclaimed, and Bucky spun back around to find father and son staring at him quizzically.

"Yeah?" he said carefully.

"Are you leaving?" Peter asked, tiny face scrunched up in confusion. 

"Was going to. You've got your parents back now. No babysitter needed," he replied truthfully, and Steve got a look on his face that seemed confused, and yup, now Bucky saw their look alike puppy faces side by side.  

"You could still stay for lunch. I'm starving," Steve said with a light smile. 

"You're always starving," he scoffed back, which earned him a grin.

"Are you hungry, Pete?" Peter nodded and was sat down on the floor, but he immediately scrambled over to the stepping stool, getting up on the counter. Steve didn't mention it, but from the surprised look, it wasn't something he'd seen Peter do before. Alright, Bucky was now apparently leaving his damn  _handprints_ on the kid, he really should leave. 

But. 

Peter gave him a bright grin, and Bucky was fucking stuck. The kid had charmed him. Fuck. 

He ate with them, because Peter asked him to, and then he packed his shit, and he left the tower, taking in lungfuls of air as he stepped outside the building. Bucky sprinted home, unlocking his appartment with quick, practiced movements, and closed the door after him. When Natasha texted him Darcy's number an hour after he'd unpacked, he wasn't even surprised she knew. Natasha always knew. 

Instead, he called Darcy and was once again surprised at the genuine glee in her voice as she spoke to him.

Bucky was going real soft, but he couldn't find it in him to care as Darcy patiently explained to him why his nickname was Anakin.

\---

 

**Author's Note:**

> Bare in mind that I'm not a child expert and that I've gathered the scarce info about kiddies from my best friend and the internet, much like Bucky.


End file.
